


Thin Black Lines

by Katharina11



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - The French Mistake, Angst, Best Friends, Character Death, Comfort, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, French Mistake, Guilt, Heartbreaking, Hurt, Love, Sisters, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, all the feelings, soulmate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 18:09:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katharina11/pseuds/Katharina11
Summary: "In that very moment he wants nothing more than to see his name on her skin. Deep inside, he knows that just as her friend, she won't have a tattoo. Even deeper inside he thinks that that's what he deserves."|| You are transported into the Supernatural universe, while Dean is transported into your universe. Getting the both of you back home seems easy enough, but when have things ever been easy?





	1. Chapter 1

Reader’s POV

The lightning is blinding and the throbbing in your head the only feeling you’re able to comprehend. Sheer nausea creeps onto you and for a fleeting moment you’re convinced you’ll have to throw up.

Staying seated, you wait for your eyes to readjust. It’s only then that the question pops up how you got here in the first place. Or where ‘here’ is for that fact. Did you go out to party last night? You want to remember, but every memory you try to recall escapes your grasp.

Your eyes are still not fully used to your surroundings, which is why you have no idea where you are. But it feels soft underneath you. For a second the thought of being kidnapped crosses your mind. You shake your head slightly - or at least you think you do, everything is still spinning - if you had been kidnapped, they wouldn’t have laid you on a soft ground. Or would they?

It’s this very moment you hear footsteps approaching. Feeling your heart beating fast, your hands becoming sweaty, you concentrate only on opening your eyes and getting them used to wherever you are. You have no possibility of knowing how long it took, but after some time the footsteps get less audible and then they’re gone.

Groaning, you close your eyes once again and some memories find their way back to you. For example, studying for the final. Oh yeah, college. Shit, you were supposed to work today. _Honestly (Y/N), you’re abducted, and you’re upset about missing work?_  Yeah, sounds like you.

You can’t remember going out yesterday. Facetiming with Sophia, yes. But other than that no socializing involved.

Once everything has stopped spinning and you can see somewhat clearly again, you get up. Slowly and carefully, as to not move too fast, since you’re still feeling pretty weak. The last thing you want to do is make noise, so that whoever took you knows you’re awake. If you have learned anything from watching Criminal Minds, it’s that you use every chance you get to escape.

So without further ado, you make your way to the door and open it slowly. It takes you some seconds to get used to the brightness of the corridor. That’s when you realize that the room you’ve been in was barely lighted. Obviously still too bright for your eyes.

Since you don’t know how much time you have to get out of here, you decide to keep walking and hope for the best. It’s then that you hear footsteps again and a voice. Your body freezes, and you wonder if you should run or hide. You don’t see anyone yet and if you hide, you may be able to sneak out. But since you’re hearing them, it’s likely they’ll check on you soon. And if you’re not in the room, they’ll look for you. But if you start running, they’ll definitely hear you and follow you instantly. The chances of you getting out of here are pretty slim. Weighing your options, you decide against sitting around, waiting for them to find you. And you run. 

You try your best to find a mixture of running slow and running quietly, but when you hear the footsteps again, this time louder, you pick up your speed. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this corridor will ever end. There are so many doors left and right, making this escape seem endless, but you don’t have any time to dwell on that.

Suddenly you see a bright light on the right side and you decide to go into it. Partly because the doorframe is definitely bigger than the others you passed by and you hope it leads you to the exit, partly because the corridor just doesn’t seem to end and it may be good to hide for some time.

_If you want to hide, you should’ve used a room that looks just like the rest. It’s obvious you’d hide in th-_

You stop midthought when you realize where you are.

“Oh”, you mutter in awe, stepping into the room with wide eyes.

There are two tables in the middle and tons of bookshelves. No window, two beers on the table. You roll your eyes when you see they don’t have a coaster.

_(Y/N), priorities._

You shake your head, when you hear the footsteps again, definitely louder.

That’s all you can remember before everything turns dark.

 

 

Sophia’s POV

“Yes mom, I will not forget to be there tonight”, I sigh into the phone.

It’s not that I’m exhausted with her, god knows I’m more than happy to spend my semester break at home. It’s more that I’m bored out of your mind. I looked forward to spending some time doing basically nothing, but by now I wish we had a little more… action. Adventure.

“Yes, I love you too, mom. I’ll call you back later, alright? I’ll finish cleaning your room.”

With a sign, I end the call, looking at the mess in front of me. It’s gonna take some time to get this in order.

Because I’m gone most of the time, my room has somewhat become a storage room. And when I do get home for a weekend from time to time, I barely have time to clean it up. Which means cleaning my room is a task I’ve delayed one too many times.

“Ugh, let’s get this over with”, I groan, picking a top up, smelling it, “Laundry, definitely laundry.”

I pick up all of the clothes that need to be washed and make my way to the bathroom. The door is closed, which takes me aback for a moment. I’m pretty sure I left it open. Shaking my head slightly, I mutter: “All this time alone is making you paranoid.”

Carrying a pile of clothes, I open the door to the bathroom. When I see someone standing there, my instinct is to let all the clothes fall to the floor.

With wide eyes I look at the man standing there, who looks back at me with the same expression. He opens his mouth to say something, while he puts a hand on his forehead, as to calm headaches.

_Oh shit._

Looking at him, I do what comes naturally to me.

Taking on step back and closing the door slowly.

Out of sight, out of mind, right?


	2. Chapter 2

Reader's POV

When you come to consciousness again, your head hurts like hell. Again. Faintly you wonder if that’s how it’s going to be every time you wake up now.

Groaning, you open your eyes, which at least get used to the room pretty quickly. After a few seconds you’re able to see none other than Sam Winchester towering over you. He’s watching you carefully and his gaze is so intense that you fear even a flinch on your part might set him off. It’s not exactly a predatory look, it seems more like he’s figuring out who you are. Waiting for clues, for your reaction.

You don’t want to look away from him, because at this point, it’s a downright staring match and you don’t want to lose. Thinking about it, you realize how crazy it is, that you are currently bound to this hardwood chair and definitely not the one in control. But maybe that’s why you do it, to have some kind of control, some kind of dominance.

You don’t know how long you go without saying anything, just staring at each other, waiting for the other one to give in. At this point it’s clear that neither of you are going to give up. But then his phone starts ringing. You see the corners of his mouth twitch and you know he’s gonna give in. It takes ten seconds until he sighs and looks away, picking up the phone. Even though you’ve won, it doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would.

“Dean?”, he says into the phone. Sam’s voice sounds strained and almost desperate. He’s not saying it casually, as a ‘hey, what’s up dude’. He is saying it with so much hope and you realize he’s searching for his brother.

“Yeah no Jo, I don’t have anything either. Thanks though.” He waits a few seconds. “That’d be great. I have… a situation on my hands. I’ll call you back later, alright?”

 _Wait what? Jo is still alive? But we’re in the bunker…_ You’re not completely sure when they discover the bunker in the tv show, but definitely after season 5, in which Jo and Ellen die.

“So, who are you?”

“Samantha, but my friends call me Sam.”

For a second his brows furrow, but then he sees the slight smirk on your face and his face falls. Okay, humor won’t get you anywhere, apparently.

“Okay, okay, you got me. Sorry, just trying to lighten up the mood. Actually, my name is Diana.”

He crosses his arms and mumbles something you can’t hear.

“Stop the games. I’ve done the tests. You’re no supernatural being. Just a plain human, a broken one at that.”

“Hey!”, you exclaim, feeling attacked that he’d call you broken. But your complaint goes disregarded by the man.

“So just tell me who you are and how you’d get in here. And if we’re at that, tell me why you  
re here. Did someone send you?”

He doesn’t question how you know their names, but then again, he thinks you broke into the bunker and that would surely take a lot of planning. Which would in turn explain how you know their names. Still, he should ask. The answer would blow his mind, you think.

“Okay, okay. My name is Alyssa.” Saying your real name aloud feels wrong, as if you’re giving him all the information, the upper hand. Which is why you decide on a fake name.

You open your mouth to complete the lie with a false last name, but then you remember that if you had told him your real first name, there’s no way in hell he’d get your last one, too. So you keep your mouth shut.

“Okay, Alyssa…”, he emphasizes the name in a way that makes it clear he doesn’t believe you, “How did you get here?”

“I wish I knew that”, you tell him through gritted teeth, “As far as I’m concerned, this is a dream. A bad one at that. Because you are a fictional character.”

He raises his eyebrow.

“Okay, your name is Sam Winchester. Your mother was killed when you were six months old in a fire, we later on get to know that she made a deal with that demon – Azael was his name, I think – when Dean and you visited the past and the younger version of your father died, she made a deal to get him back. Anyway, your mother was a trained hunter, she came from the Campbell family after all, but your father was just a mechanic, he wasn’t aware of the supernatural. Until of course your mother died, then he went on a mission. He seemed really… Let’s just say he wouldn’t get any father of the year awards. Dean and you always changed schools, because the three of you travelled from one place to another to hunt monsters. While Dean was ‘the good little soldier’ and followed your dad’s instruction to a fault, you wanted to have a normal life. So when you got accepted to Stanford-“

“Okay, okay, shut up”, he interrupts you, staring at you wide-eyed, “How do you  know all of that?”

“Remember when Balthazar zapped you into the other universe?”

“Who is Balthazar?”, he asks confused.

“Honestly? Okay, we are in the bunker, aren’t we?”

He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t have to.

“Okay, timelines are messed up. Or… doesn’t matter. Point is where I’m from the whole… thing is a tv show, called Supernatural.”

“Like the books Chuck wrote?”, Sam asks disgusted.

“Okay, at least some things are the same”, you mumble, well aware that he heard you.

“And I have nod idea how I got here”, you admit, “I woke up in… a room and then just started to run. To be frankly, I’m still convinced I’ll wake up soon. This is all very strange.”

“It’s definitely not a dream. And I believe you… mostly.”

Now it’s your turn to raise your eyebrows. That’s all it took? He believes you? Just like that? How has he survived this long if he is that gullible? Then again, Winchesters are bot really known for staying alive.

“Wh-what? Why? I mean, I’m happy you trust me, but don’t you… I don’t know, find the whole thing really strange?”

“Believe me Alyssa, it’s more than strange. But Dean suddenly disappeared in front of my eyes this morning. Half an hour later I find you running here. Call me crazy, but I see a connection there. Maybe… if you were transferred into this universe, he took your place? Makes sense, right?”

“Oh shit”, you breath out.

 

Soph’s POV

I take five deep breaths, before I turn around to look at the door again. Maybe if I open it this time, there will be no one there? Maybe that was just my imagination running wild. Yeah, that must be it. Too much re-watching Supernatural.

Carefully I stretch my arm out, waiting a few seconds before I open the door again.

Next thing I know I find myself being pressed into the wall behind me, an enraged man hovering over me. He is holding me up by his arm, rather pressing with it at my throat. If he put just a little more pressure on it, he’d be cutting off all oxygen.

“Who. Are. You.?” Every word is threateningly pronounced.

“How did I get here?”, he follows up and even though he still sounds threatening, there’s an underlying desperation.

“What’s your name?”, is all I can come up with.

_Oh god, you’re dreaming. Please wake up, please wake up._

“I asked you first, sweetheart.”

Even though the word itself is a pet name, he says it in such an intimidating tone that it lets shivers run down my spine. Looking at his face, I realize his eyes are fixed on mine and there’s no movement in his facial expressions. A stone cold killer, that’s what he seems at this moment.

The fear of what’s to come hits me like a truck and I have to concentrate on my breathing to make sure not to pass out.

“My name is Sophia. And I have no idea how you got here. Here being my apartment by the way.” I see no point in telling him that my mom lives here as well, since I still don’t know his intentions and don’t want to drag her into anything. “And I really need to know your name, because I think I have something to show you.”

He clenches his jaw, pressing his arm harder against my throat and panic raises within me.

“D-Dean”, I get out, “Dean Winchester… Is that your name?”

My voice is weak and little, since he hasn’t budged.

He lightens his grip but doesn’t stop all together.

“I’m no threat to you, I promise. I have no idea how you ended up here, but I know who you are because you are a fictional character in a tv series.”

His eyebrows shoot up and he shakes his head, still not ready to let me go completely.

“Just let me show you this. I promise I’m no threat. I mean, look at us, do you really think I’d have a chance at beating you?”

He smirks, still not letting me go.

“I’ve learned not to underestimate.”

“I’m no demon or another supernatural being. I’m only human. In fact where you are there are no supernatural things. No magic, just… normal human life.”

“No, that’s not… A-are you serious? How the hell did I end up here?”

“Just let me go and I’ll prove to you that there is a tv show about you… well, you and Sam.”

His grip tightens for a second at the mention of his brother’s name.

I decide against saying anything else and after some time he releases me completely.

Looking at him, I wonder if what I’m doing is the right choice. Letting him stay here. But after all, do I have a choice? It’s not like I’m in a position to throw him out. Also, this is probably just a dream.

In this case I’m fairly upset about not dreaming about the other brother.

Once I take the laptop from my bed, a thought crosses my mind.

“Wait… which season are you on?”

He shoots me a bitch face, answering: “My life can’t just be divided into seasons.”

Shrugging, I answer: “It kinda can.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Sam refrences to the Reader as a 'broken human', he's talking about how she doesn't have a soulmate tattoo. She has none since they don't exist in our universe, but Sam doesn't know that.


	3. Chapter 3

Soph’s POV

Closing Netflix, I look at the man in front of me with big eyes. I just showed him the very first episode, because I feared spoilering something.

Honestly, the first ten minutes weren’t pretty. I wanted to skip it, but he told me to let it play. Judging by the way his jaw clenched and his eyes dropped when his mother died on screen, I’m sure he didn’t take it too well.

“It’s weird seeing yourself on tv… It’s so fucked up.”

I nod along, unsure of what to say. Should I apologize? Show him more?

“That was about five years ago, you know”, he tells me, “When I picked Sammy up from Stanford.”

Again I nod, unnecessarily.

“So you’re on season five right now”, I mumble before I can stop myself. I regret it instantly.

“There’s more?”

Gulping visibly, I shift on my place on the bed.

“Well”, I start, unsure of what to say, “Kinda…”

His gaze is fixed on me, urging me on to tell him more. Leaning back into the kitchen chair, I think carefully about my next step. Should I tell him his future? It will definitely change things. But maybe for the better – then again, it could be for the worse.

I let my eyes wander over the kitchen interior I know by heart, right now I’d just rather stare at the dishwasher than at the very real fictional character. When he’s not currently trying to kill you, he can definitely pull the puppy eyes off.

“I don’t know if you should know the rest, to be honest. Knowing one’s future is dangerous”, I tell him eventually.

“Bullshit”, Dean answers instantly, his tone sharp, “How would you know it’s dangerous? Have you seen what it does? No, you haven’t. So stop the hypocritical thing you’ve got going on. If you were in my shoes you’d do the same thing.”

I look straight at him into his mesmerizing green eyes and I have to admit he’s right. If I were him, with all the losses he’s suffered, all the terrible things he’s seen… I would want to know.

Besides, as someone who knows his future, it really can’t get much worse.

“Alright”, I say after a while, “But if I do you this favor, you’ll have to do one for me.”

He raises his eyebrows for one millisecond, before he starts to smirk in a self-satisfied manner.

It takes me a few seconds before my mind realizes what he thinks I’m gonna ask of him.

“Ew. No, pervert”, I tell him with wide-eyes, expecting him to blush at being called out. But he just laughs it right off and moves right on.

“I want you to facetime my friend”, I explain with a smile, “She likes the show, too.”

He laughs again, taking a gulp of the beer I put in front of him.

It was really by chance we had one at home, but I bought some as a gift to my best friend’s dad – his favorite beer of course – but we had to reschedule due to work schedules.

“So you want to show me off, huh?”

I send him a half-assed bitchface.

“It’s okay, I understand. I’d show me off too, if I were you.”

I roll my eyes at him, replying: “Jerk.”

“Bitch”, he replies instantly and moments after he said that his eyes widen in realization.

“Okay, anyhow, I’m gonna pull the Supernatural Wikia side up, and then you just… I don’t know, look at things that could help. If you want any intel from me, just ask.”

He nods along, already typing something into the computer.

Sneaking a glance at my Mac, I realize he’s looking at a ‘death list’. Oh, this is not good.

“I died _111_ times?”, he asks offended, looking at me, as if I’m to blame.

“Yeah, you Winchesters aren’t really known for staying alive. But don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Hm, okay… I’m gonna print it out, okay? Also, we should get around to watching these episodes before I get back.”

I look at him shocked.

“Don’t you want to… I don’t know, try to get home?”

“Of course I do, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. This could possibly save thousands of people. So yeah, if that means I’ll stay around for some more days, then that’s it.”

“Don’t I get a say in this… you know, since it’s my apartment?”

He glances back at me and I swear I see him roll his eyes.

“Do you really want to put me out there, thinking I’m some kind of celebrity? Don’t you think that’s gonna create a lot of fuzz? The US government would probably put me through all kinds of tests.”

“Alright you can stay, but only because if this is real – and frankly I’m still expecting to wake up any second now – if this is real, it’s an adventure and I’d like to solve this. Also, experience your favorite tv show live is kina cool.”

He cocks an eyebrow and smirks again.

“Favorite tv show, huh?”

“Oh shut up.”

He continues to look through the sides, printing out any information he can find. I’m close to telling him to cut it down, since printer ink is fairly expensive. But then I remember what he’s going through and I decide against it.

“By the way, thanks for agreeing to our deal, I know you’d have gotten the information anyway”, I tell him with a heartfelt smile, “But I truly don’t understand why you’re not fully freaking out at this point.”

“Internally I’ve done enough freaking out for today”, he tells me humorless, “Right now I’m trying to save the future.”

 

Reader’s POV

“I’ll get some more coffee, then we’ll have enough energy to get us through the night”, Sam exclaims next to you, putting his book aside.

“Yeah, you do that. But don’t take too long. I want to get all of those through by the time we go to bed.”

You point at the two dozen books you’ve found in the library. These are the best matches, they should give you some kind of solution. But if not, you still have about five hundred others that talk, even if just distinctly, about parallel universes and how to travel to them. All theoretical, of course.

Sam raises one eyebrow, scrutinizing the way you work.

“I don’t think it’s helpful for you to read like that. If you turn the page that fast – while listening to music, may I add – it’s very probable you miss something.”

“Trust me, I don’t.”

He cracks a smile, answering: “You do you, but if we don’t get Dean and you home, I’ll blame it on your reading.”

You both chuckle at that, before you call after him: “Well, I will blame it on your sucky coffee. Learn to make strong coffee, Winchester.”

As an afterthought you add: “And when you’re at it, throw whatever you’re using out and buy an actual coffee machine. It’s an investment, trust me.”

The night goes on like this, pumping your bodies full of caffeine, reading through hundreds of pages, taking notes, trying not to fall asleep.

It’s two days later when you feel like you’re suffocating in the bunker. You’ve been in this place for the last 72 hours and by now the walls seem to come closer day by day.

The books you’ve read have talked about time travelling for hours – and then there were simply three pages about travelling to parallel universes. The worst about it? There are a lot of different theories and none of them sound too appealing. Sam tried calling Castiel, getting his input, but he hasn’t shown up in all the time you’ve been here – at least not that you’re aware of.

Which basically means that you’re not getting out of this shithole. Great.

You’re sitting at the library table again, working in silent. Well, Sam is working in silent, while you’re blasting music through the headphones and cassette player he has given you. Very vintage, but it’s better than nothing.

“Let’s go out tonight”, you suggest, realizing you must be nearly screaming with you still hearing the music on full blast.

He looks at you suspiciously.

“Where would we even go?”

“Honestly, I don’t care. I just need to get out of here. There are no windows here, you don’t have any books I’d usually read – and you won’t buy new ones, might I add – and I feel like I’m going out of my mind.”

Sam thinks about your words for a second, obviously not too convinced of the idea.

“I don’t know, Alyssa… I mean, what if it messes up this universe? You’re not supposed to be here, maybe you interacting with other people… I’m just not sure it’s the best option out there.”

You sigh dramatically.

“I am aware of that, trust me. Why do you think this is the first time I’m asking to go outside? The last thing I want to do is mess this universe up. It’s just really annoying being here all alone.”

Sam snickers.

“You do know I’m here too, don’t you?”

You redirect your glance directly at him.

“Sam, when I woke up here I thought you kidnapped me. Then you knocked me out. Since then we’ve been working non-stop, only talking when we need to. So yeah, not that fun to be around.”

“Okay, point taken.” He looks at the book in his lap. “You know what? Let’s get something to drink and watch something. We should have some fun.”

You raise one eyebrow and he simply shrugs.

“Would you rather go out and have to deal with total strangers all night? At least this way we’ll get to know each other.”

He doesn’t voice it, but you know exactly what his goal is: for you to talk about your universe. Because you have only told him what’s absolutely necessary. That you’re from another universe and you know him because his life is a tv show. But that’s it.

Well, one or two things may have slipped your tongue when you were bragging, but to your defense: it was hilarious to see his face when you told him his actor is married to Ruby’s actress.

“Get the good stuff”, you call after him. You may have to play by the rules of this universe as to not mess it up, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun as well. For a second you feel bad about not following up on research, but then you suppress those emotions, concentrating on this very moment. Just for one night you can enjoy yourself.

Just drinking, watching a movie sounds great right about now, since you’ve been researching 24/7.

Sam returns shortly, carrying two glasses and a bottle of some sort of liquor. If you were more social, maybe you’d know which one it is. But all you know is that it’s brown and you’re guessing strong.

Your guess is confirmed when Sam hands you one of the glasses filled with amber liquid. Woah, yeah, you think, that’s strong.

Taking a deep breath, you clink your glass with Sam’s.

“To not going out and messing up this universe.”

“To keeping this universe intact.”

 

 

Soph’s POV

“I can’t believe you let her feel you up like this!”, I almost shout at him over this loud music.

Dean smirks in his boyish ways, shrugging slightly.

“Well, she’s hot.”

“The show really didn’t exaggerate you being a player. Oh my god, you’re awful.”

“Hey, hey, hey”, he shouts back with a smile, holding his hands up in defense, “Trust me, I’m not that bad back home. But what I do in this universe doesn’t matter since it’s not my own, right? So I can have all the fun and it’s like Vegas.”

He thinks about his words for a second, a smirk coating his lips.

“That would make you my travel guide, I guess”, he follows up on his thought.

“You wish”, I answer amused, because it really is fun.

I was so sure that he’d be mad all the time, but after he got all the information he wanted – which took like a day and a half – he got super relaxed. ‘Because now I know how to save everyone’, he says. For another day we sat around trying to get him back, but when we realized that there’s absolutely no magic here whatsoever, we got to another plan. Which mostly involves his brother doing all the saving.

That, and the fact that the Apocalypse seems to be an issue in their universe right now, which means the angels need him as Michael’s sword. So they’ll get him back somewhen. Until then, this is his Vegas, obviously.

“Let’s take a selfie”, I tell him and for the first time in the last few days, he doesn’t instantly say no and practically throw my phone away.

Taking a picture of us, I sigh at the bad quality. The lightning of the club isn’t doing us any favors. But you can still recognize who we are, if you look closely enough at least.

I send the photo to (Y/N), hoping she’ll respond this time.

The first one and a half days Dean was here, I didn’t really have the head to text her – honestly, I feared that some monster would appear any second. Or that I would wake up. I preferred the later one. Anyway, after that she didn’t pick up – which didn’t surprise me for the next 24 hours, because for her it’s especially stressful, working, her finals week and having to finish up on her term paper. But some hours ago I texted her an sos, because she responds to that immediately – that’s just something we do. If you get an sos, you drop everything and be there. An emergency always comes first.

I send her the photo, hoping that it might catch her attention and she will write back. Oh, and I’m also ready to give her a lecture of a lifetime, because you don’t ignore a sos from your best friend, you just don’t.

Deciding to call her mom in the morning, I put my phone away, trying not to think about it too much.

“Two more rounds”, Dean tells the bartender, and it’s only then that I realize that I’ve zoned out.

Looking at me, he says: “You okay?”

“Mh-hm. Just thinking about some stuff.”

“Hey, hey, no. We’re here to have fun. Vegas, remember.”

I smile at that and he adds: “This universe is a great holiday destination, honestly.”

We both laugh at that, but I still can’t completely shake the feeling that something’s off.

_Duh girl, Dean Winchester is real and in front of you. There’s definitely something wrong._

Instead of concentrating on my worry, I decide to concentrate on my anger. Thinking about her being a bitch is better than… well, with all things going on, I don’t even know what the alternative is. Anyway, I think about how much she’ll regret not answering me when she gets to know that she could’ve met Dean Winchester. _Oh my god, she might just kill me._

“Here you go”, the bartender tells us politely, setting two shot glasses in front of us.

Dean and I take ours at the same time, clinking glasses.

“Here’s to this universe. And to having a great time, just because we can.”

 

__

“No-ooo”, I sigh dramatically, “I don’t want to go just yet.”

Pouting, I turn my head back to Dean, who’s still sitting in the bar stool next to me, not moving a muscle.

“Pretty please? Just one more shot… or three, you know, it’s so nice to have fun.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk, sweetheart?”, he answers slyly, dragging his words out just the slightest.

“If someone is trying to get you drunk, it’s yourself. You’ve had like… I don’t even know how much, but way more than m- OH MY GOD I _love_ this song!”

I listen closely to the melody, realizing that the bass is way more audible than in the original. I let my body, still sitting on the stool, go with the music and my mouth starts humming along before I realize I’m doing it. Maybe I’m a little bit tipsy.

“You’re into that crap?”, Dean asks amused, one eyebrow raised.

“It’s so good!”

I decide against telling him that it also has sentimental value to me, because I wrote a one shot about seducing his brother while singing that specific song.

Julia Michaels starts singing and I instantly close my eyes, listening closely to the music.

Before Dean can say anything again, I order two more shots. I know I shouldn’t because I’m on the verge of being drunk, but honestly? It’s just so much fun. I’ve been working so hard lately and I don’t really have people in this town to do that kind of stuff with. Sure, my friends visit me, but you can’t spend that valuable time getting drunk off your ass, because you’ll be hungover for two days and then the visiting time is over, and you’ve wasted it. Trust me, I’m talking of experience.

Anyway, I’m just too happy to care right now. Laughing, half-assed dancing, drinking, not having anyone tell you that there’s something you have to do – because my mother is still on vacation and I got the work off of work because of ‘personal issues’. And Dean can handle himself, those boys have practically been risen on alcohol.

Before I can finish the thought, the bartender hands me the shots and I want to give him the money, which he politely declines, saying it’s on him. _Oh my._

My mood only increases, and I look down at my cleavage with an approving nod. Seems like it’s getting the job done today.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dress revealing, but having someone as hot as Dean Winchester by your side for three days now? A girl gotta show what she has, as to not feel inferior.

So I took the liberty of taking a top (Y/N) left when she visited me some weeks ago. When we were going out and she crammed through her suitcase, she must’ve thrown it somewhere in my room, because I found it when cleaning my room. I was just picking up where I left off when Dean suddenly appeared in my bathroom and since she hasn’t responded me yet… y’know, it’s just something different to what I would usually wear.

And boy, it has gotten me a lot of attention tonight.

I down my shot before Dean even has the chance to raise his to clink them.

“They say all good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you”, I sing along to the song, barely able to contain my excitement.

The taste of vodka lingers on my tongue, which gives me just the confidence I need to be outgoing. And right now I just want to sing, _oh my god,_ I want to sing so badly. So I do. Not looking at anyone in specific, I simply slur the words out, trying my best to actually sing them.

It’s too loud in here for me to hear myself, which is why I assume everyone else can barely hear me. Which is mostly true, because _oh my god_ it’s so packed in here.

“You don’t realize the power they have until they leave you and you want them back, nothing in this world prepares you for that”, I sing along, moving my hips with the rhythm. With every word I feel lighter and continue to forget where I actually am. For all I care, I’m currently in my room, playing this song on repeat on full blast. Closing my eyes, I take it all in, how the stool seems to barely touch me, how the voices around me get quieter. I’m solely concentrating on the song.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts abruptly when I feel a hand graze my inner thigh. It’s a soft touch, soft enough that I could’ve missed it easily. But I am way too full of adrenaline as to not feel _that._

Turning my head towards Dean, who’s eyelids are slightly dropped, I let my eyes linger on his lips for a second, appreciating their fullness.

Before my mind can catch up, I continue to sing along, this time just a little quieter and just a little deeper.

“I’m not a sinner – He wasn’t the one.” I look back at his green eyes, practically staring into them. My hand is on his thigh before I even think about doing it. It’s automatic.

Leaning in closer, I continue singing: “There’s no regrets, I just thought it was fun. No need to imagine, cause I know it’s true… They say all good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you. It’s automatic, it’s just what they do.”

I take a breath, ready to continue singing, when I suddenly feel his lips on mine. It takes my brain approximately five seconds to catch up, before I place my left hand on his neck, pulling him closer to me.

Letting my other hand wander across his thigh, I hear him lowly hiss into my mouth, which only spurs me further on.

I don’t know just how long this continues, but somewhen we have to get up for air. Gasping, I try to calm my body, desperately trying not to fall off the stool. Because I could just do that. _I just made out with Dean fucking Winchester. Yas._

Dropping his head into the crook into my neck, he takes a deep breath and I shudder at the contact.

“You smell so good”, he mutters into my neck and I can’t concentrate on his words, when his lips suddenly starts grazing my skin there. He’s placing soft, butterfly kisses on my neck, driving me insane, because I want him to do so much more than that. Grabbing his hair, I push him against me, groaning, when he sucks on the spot just underneath my jaw.

I remove my hand instantly when I realize where we are.

We should stop.

Or at least get out of here, it’s too public here.

Slowly I redirect my gaze towards him, only to find him already looking at me.

He stares into my eyes. His aren’t entirely green anymore, his pupils dilated. Looking at him, I can’t help but glance at his lips ever so often, already missing the contact. He smirks lazily and it’s this moment I realize it’s going to be a long night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is gonna catch up with Dean and Soph later on. But what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, hm?  
> Oh, and did any of you pick up on the fact that Dean whispered 'you smell so good' because she's wearing your shirt? Well, now you know.


	4. Chapter 4

Soph’s POV

I groan when I feel the sunshine hit my face directly. I had such a nice dream, about flying over New York and then landing on Time Square, performing in front of thousands of people. I want to back to that.

When I feel an arm around me pulling me back to a broad body, I shriek involuntarily.

The memories hit me like a truck, well most of them, cause everything is still a little hazy to be honest. Still… the kissing, the touching… the sex. _Oh my god, I just had sex with Dean Winchester._

My eyes widen at the realization. Guess I was hung up on the wrong Winchester brother, because last night was definitely a night to remember.

Leaning against his chest, I close my eyes, trying to fall asleep again. Having him besides me right now just feels so incredible.

My eyelids get heavier and my body relaxes. Falling asleep is so close, I can practically taste it.

“No, I just arrived. Sure, sweetie I’ll come by later on.“

I hear my mom’s voice muffled through the walls, before I hear keys turning.

It doesn’t even take a second for me to shoot up.

“Oh god, no”, I mutter to myself, looking at Dean and, well, our very naked bodies.

“Wake up”, I hiss and he just groans, turning to the other side.

“Dean get up this very second or I promise you we won’t be able to return you to your precious Impala because there will be nothing left of you to return.”

I know my mom won’t be mad about having a guy over.

But she’ll be mad about having a 31-year-old over, who she doesn’t know and has never heard of before.

Dean looks at me through hooded eyes, obviously still half asleep.

“Get up, get dressed. Hurry up”, I instruct him, already in motion.

I put underwear on in record time, taking the first pair of jeans in there I can get my hands on. It will be bad enough for her to find a man in my room. Worse if we’re naked.

Oh my god, how will I ever explain to her that he has to stay here? This is a disaster.

Dean still hasn’t gotten up and I’m starting to get mad.

“Dean, move! My mom is home, she’s gonna tear you a new one.”

He’s up in seconds, looking shocked.

“Y-your mom? Sophia, tell me you’re legal.”

“Oh my god, that’s your problem here? Of course I’m legal, I’m sharing this apartment with my mom who’s mostly up and around. So, get dressed.”

The shock has awoken him, and he’s fully clothed in less than a minute. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

“Do you think you can jump?”, I ask him, already knowing the answer.

“What? I’m not gonna jump out. Just tell your mother the truth.”

“Oh yeah, because that will work out great. ‘Oh hey mom, this? This is Dean Winchester. You might recognize him from the TV show Supernatural. He popped up in our bathroom and I decided to keep it. And then we banged.’ Great plan, really. If we’re thinking ahead, we should also get started on our shared funeral.”

He sighs.

“You’re being overdramatic.”

“Yeah, well, I’m also about to be death, so I think I have a right to be dramatic.”

“C’m—”

He’s cut off when my mom opens my door.

She stops halfway, looking at Dean and then at me, before she stares at Dean again. Her eyes come to rest on me.

“Kitchen, now”, she mutters.

“Just one sec”, I tell Dean with a fake smile, running behind my mom.

When she’s in the kitchen, she leans against the counter and closes her eyes for a second.

Taking a deep breath, she then sits down on a chair.

“Sophia, who is that in your room?“

It’s a question, but the way she looks at me, we both know she’s aware of the answer.

“An acquaintance”, I answer.

“Sophia, you know you have to tell me about a situation like that. Taking strangers back home? This is not only your apartment, it’s also mine. And we have rules.”

I hear footsteps behind me and turn around to tell him to piss off, when my mom cuts me off before I can even say anything.

“You’re being so irresponsible”, she tells me, shaking her head.

“Mom, calm down.”

Her eyes widen and I realize that I shouldn’t have said that. I

“Sophia Grace Van Doren, don’t you dare telling me to calm down.”

“Mom! I know him, I’ve known him for a few days, and he stayed the night. It was a rash decision, that’s why I didn’t write you, I didn’t want to wake you at 2 AM. Right, Dean?”

I look behind me to get him to nod, just do anything that will let my mother calm down, when I am faced with a white-faced man, staring at me with wide eyes.

“Right, Dean?”, I repeat my question, nodding slightly.

“Van Doren?”, he chokes out, looking like he might be sick.

“Oh my god, he doesn’t know your last name? Sophia, are you lying to me right now?”, my mom asks and I can’t help but groan, feeling attacked by all sides.

“Mom, I won’t apologize for having a friend over-“

“He’s obviously not a friend if he doesn’t even know your last name!”

“Mom! What’s done is done.”

She stares at me, her face filled with rage.

“I’m going to Ben’s. Text me when you’ve taken care of this mess. And then we’re gonna sit down and have a talk, missy.”

I nod, not wanting to have this conversation any longer.

My mother leaves in a fast pace, and I can hear her mumble something underneath her breath. Well, that went just perfect, didn’t it?

Looking back at Dean, I see him still standing there frozen.

“Guess we’ll have to find y-“

I’m interrupted when Dean storms towards me, pulling my pullover back, revealing my wrist.

I raise my brow, but he doesn’t even look at me, he simply stares at the soft skin there.

He turns my wrist around, grunting angrily, before letting it fall and taking my right arm.

“What the fuck are you doing?”, I ask, sounding not as harsh as I’d like to.

He ignores my question, yanking my other wrist towards him and turning it as well.

“It’s blank”, he whispers, more to himself than anyone else.

“Obviously”, I reply, “Why shouldn’t it be?”

“I didn’t even think about it”, he mutters, staring at the floor, “No one here- oh god, I should’ve connected the dots.”

His voice is aggravated and his whole body is tense.

Carefully I reach out and put my hand on his bicep, but he flinches immediately, pulling away.

“You knew, didn’t you? You just wanted to mess with me.”

I raise my eyebrows, completely confused by now.

“What the _hell_ are you ta-“

Before I can finish the sentence, he pushes me against the counter – and not in the good way – practically growling.

“Where. Is. It?”

“Where is what?”

He grips my arm hard enough to leave bruises, before repeating: “Where is it?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about! Let me go, you’re hurting me.”

He lightens his grip on my arm, not completely retreating his hand.

“That’s why we couldn’t find you”, he barely whispers, just loud enough for me to hear, “Because you weren’t there. It makes so much sense now.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”, I practically scream in his face and his expression hardens.

“I’m talking about your tattoo, sweetheart. About the fact that I just fucking screwed my brother’s soulmate.”

Visibly gulping, I try to take a step backwards, only to realize that I can’t since the counter is behind me.

“W-what… what are you talking about?”

He lets go of me, shaking his head slightly.

“It’s probably not even right. It can’t be, you two are in different universes.”

Groaning, I raise my voice this time, tired of being ignored: “Dean, what the hell is going on? It’s time to explain.”

He looks back at me, obviously having an internal conflict.

He rolls his eyes and scratches his eyebrow, before sitting down at the table. I follow his lead, wanting, no needing, to hear what’s going on.

“Okay, so… my universe is different than the one you’ve seen on TV, we’ve established that.”

I nod along, not wanting to interrupt him. Because yes, we’ve listed the differences. The main plot is the same, but the details changed.

“Well, in our universe…”, he gulps, trying to find the words, “There are soulmates. Actual soulmates.”

He looks at me, as if he’s expecting me to freak out.

“Dean, many people believe in soulmates. That’s not different in our universe.”

Groaning, he goes on: “No, no. Not like this. When you turn thirteen, a name appears on your wrist. The name of your soulmate. The rest is for you to figure out. Some people never get a name because… there’s just no soulmate for them there. There are groups for people like this – but that doesn’t matter right now. Fact is, you have the name of your soulmate on your wrist. And yours just happen to be on my brother’s wrist.”

“I know this is not the time for questions, but we _are_ talking about Sam, aren’t we? Or are we talking about Adam. Because timelines are really different with you and I’m kinda confused-“

“Yes, we’re talking about Sam”, he says, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, it was a justified question.”

“Not really, since Adam is dead”, he retorts.

“You researched your future, you know damn well that he’ll come back to life.”

“Yeah, and then be stuck in the pit for all eternity.”

This time it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“You know the future now, Dean. You can change it.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, I’m more concerned with you being Sam’s soulmate.”

“You do know how crazy that sounds, right?”, I question.

“Of course I do. But we’ve been searching for you for a long time. There’s no data base containing your name. We just figured you lived off the grid. Trust me, Sam really did a lot of digging. It makes sense. Kinda. I have no idea why you’re in this universe, but that would explain why Sam couldn’t find you.”

“Hold on”, I interrupt him, “I don’t have any tattoo. None. So it’s practically impossible. We live in different universes and I don’t have his name tattooed – by the way, that sounds really strange. Just having a name on you. Doesn’t it make you feel like property? Like someone claimed you?”

He smiles a lazy smile, answering: “It’s hard to explain, but it’s… peaceful, kinda. Knowing that there’s someone out there who has your name tattooed on your wrist.”

“How does it feel? Meeting them, do you know instantly? Or do you have to guess everyone’s name?”

He shrugs. “As far as I know, you know instantly. It’s a subtle feeling, like everything is falling in place.”

I raise an eyebrow. “ _As far as I know?_ Haven’t you met yours?”

“No, and it’s probably better off this way. Wit-“

“Yeah, yeah, everyone dying around you. That’s bullshit, Dean. You’re trying to make yourself feel better for not knowing her. If soulmates are real in your universe, you should go out and find her.”

“I did try to find her, but to no luck.”

“Well, knowing you, your soulmate is probably a fellow hunter and uses aliases all the time.”

“Yeah, probably. At least I know she’s still alive.”

A silence follows and I realize that he’s slightly upset. Understandable, since he is convinced he just slept with his brother’s soulmate and has talked himself into never being able to find his soulmate.

“I’ll fix something up to eat, alright? And then we’ll talk about what to do about my mom. You’ll probably have to leave.”

He nods absentmindedly, and I open the fridge, getting a jar of tomato sauce.

“Can you set the table?”, I ask him while getting the noodles and filling the pot with water. He’s been here for some days, by now he knows where the plates are.

“Sure”, he answers, getting up and opening the cupboard, when suddenly I hear him hiss of pain.

“Are you okay?”, I ask, not sure what just happened.

He looks at me, with wide eyes, seemingly frozen in place.

“No, no, no, no, no”, he mutters, pulling his own sleeve back, only to reveal a name with a thin black line over it.

Looking at Dean’s wrist, I open and close my mouth some time, unsure of what to say. At this point I’m convinced my brain is fucking with me. Because even though from standing over here it’s hard to read, I’m pretty sure that the name on his wrist is one I know.

_Oh my god._

Trying to get over the initial shock, I look at Dean’s face, trying to figure out just what the line means. Before I can even ask him, he takes a plate from the cupboard and smashes it to the floor.

“Hey!”, I exclaim at the same time he mutters: “No, no, no.”

He looks at the mess on the floor, then back to me, his face stern. Dean opens his mouth to say something, but closes it soon after.

I’m fairly sure I hear him say: “ ‘S too good to be true. Should’ve known I wouldn’t get any type of vacation.”

He turns around, ready to storm out of the room, when he smashes into a body that suddenly appears in front of him.

One I know too well from the tv show. Zachariah, that bastard. That’s not good. That’s not good at all.

“Found you”, he says smirking, as if he’s playing a game of hide and seek.

Without further ado, he places his hand on Dean, who shrieks in pain.

Anything happening next, I blame on the adrenaline. Because without thinking I storm forward, trying to pull Dean back. Because giving him to the angels doesn’t sound good. Definitely not.

And then everything turns dark.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Reader’s POV

“Honestly Sam, I’m going out of my mind. I’ve read about a thousand books and while they all talk about time travelling, there are like 0.2 talking about travelling to parallel universe. I hate to point out the obvious, but we should call on the angels.”

He shakes his head, not even looking up from the book he’s reading.

“We’ve been over this, Alyssa. We’re not going to tell them anything. They’d take Dean with them. We’d only create a new problem.”

Even though you don’t want to, you know he’s right.

“Cas, please show up. It’s been four days, it’s time for a hero”, you shout at the ceiling, getting no answer.

“You know, what’s the point of an angel if he doesn’t help you?”, you voice your question out aloud.

Sam shrugs. “I’ve gotten used to it. The only time he does show up is when Dean calls.”

“Ah, Destiel”, you say nodding, “Good to know some things are the same.”

Sam looks at you with one eyebrow raised, before it dawns on him what ‘Destiel’ could possibly mean.

“There’s like a whole movement around those two in my universe. Honestly, I’m not shipping them, for me, it’s always been Dean and Jo.”

Sam laughs at that, a true, heartfelt laugh and you can’t help but smile.

“Well, she does have the biggest crush on him since forever, but it’s never gonna work.”

Now it’s your time to laugh. “Oh, so you’re fighting hard for Destiel now, aren’t you? I mean, they’re pretty cute, especially in the later seasons. But I’ve always loved the tension between Dean and Jo, because she was written in the show to be the female version of him. Yeah well, she just _is_ , since this is not a show here, obviously.”

He shakes his head slightly, before answering: “No, what I mean is that even if those relationships happened, they’d eventually end.”

“Woah, Sam Winchester, ever the optimist.”

“Yeah, once his soulmate comes into his life, that’d be it.”

You raise one eyebrow, confusion written all over your face.

“Sure Sa, but why can’t one of them be his soulmate? Like, let him figure it out for himself.”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

“Because it’s neither of their names written on his wrist.”

“What’s that now?”

You both stare at each other, before something dawns upon him, his eyes widening in realization.

“You don’t have soulmates in your universe”, he mutters more to himself.

Pulling his sleeve back, he shows you a tattoo on his wrist.

“What is this?”, you ask, not knowing what exactly is going on now.

“That’s my soulmate’s name. In our universe their name appears on your wrist when you’re a teen. It’s supposed to help you find the one you’re meant to be with. Sadly, it has only created more conflict. There are thousand of people who never find their significant other and stay single most of their life, because they don’t want to ‘waste’ their time on someone else.”

“That’s bullshit”, you can’t help but say, “Holding out for someone you don’t even know. Don’t you feel… caged with that tattoo? Someone somewhen decided that you should be with that one person and you don’t get a say in it?”

“Not really, having found your soulmate is supposed to be one of the greatest things in life. No one that ever found their soulmate has been upset. It’s the ones who don’t find them that are angry with the whole concept. Or when your soulmate dies, and their name gets crossed out.”

“That’s… a lot. Wow. To be honest, Sam, I’m not upset we don’t have that in our universe. It’s like being marked as property. ‘Look, I belong to this one person.’”

“Yeah, but it’s all worth it once you’ve met them”, he retorts.

You both fall into silence again, you still trying to process the information.

“I’m sorry”, is the best you can think of, when you remember his past in the show.

“What for?”, he asks confused.

“Well, that you lost yours. You know, Jessica.”

He shakes his head, looking directly at you.

“Jessica wasn’t my soulmate. Of course her death was crushing… but she wasn’t my one. As far as I know, my soulmate doesn’t even exist.”

“How come? You have her name tattooed on your wrist.”

He shrugs.

“Well, there’s no record of her anywhere. As far as the universe is concerned, there’s no Sophia Grace Van Doren anywehere.”

Your jaw hits the floor.

“Okay, I’m ready to wake up now”, you say to the sky, “It was a nice dream, but this is getting too ridiculous now.”

Sam doesn’t move an inch and you don’t wake up either, not that you thought it would work. Because if this were a dream, then you know you couldn’t read. But you can, clear as day.

“Show me”, you order, “Show me your tattoo.”

Slowly he stretches his arm out, obviously not sure what you’re getting at.

Taking his wrist in your hand, you stare at the thing lines spelling out your best friend’s name. Well, shit.

“I know exactly where Dean is in the other universe.”

Looking back at Sam, you try to get over your shock.

“Castiel, you better get your ass down here right now. I know where Dean is, do you hear me?”

It takes some seconds, but then there’s knocking on the bunker’s door. Ah yeah, angel warding.

Sam gets up and runs the stairs up, more collected than you imagined he’d be.

Once both men are in front of you, Castiel opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“I’m Alyssa. Let’s not waste anymore time sitting around here. I know where Dean is, so let’s get started.”

he angel opens his mouth, but you interrupt him again.

“No, let’s not do small talk. I’m tired of this universe and … all this shit happening. I want to go home, and you want Dean home. We weren’t sure where exactly he was in my universe, but trust me, I know now. Let’s do this. And don’t tell me you can’t, because I know there’s a spell for that that only angels can use.”

Both men just stay where they are, not moving a muscle.

“Oh god, could you just do what you’re told?”

Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, you write down the address you suppose he’s at, handing it to Cas.

“What exactly do you need? We’ll get you the ingredients”, you tell the angel, your voice rather hash. But you can’t help it. You were mad about being here, you were mad when you weren’t allowed to leave the bunker – but now, knowing that you’re only her because of some soulmate crap – because someone believes your best friend is Sam’s soulmate – now you’re fuming.

By now you’ve missed three exams and are probably fired. Your family must be worried sick. All because they believe Sophia is his soulmate? He should look for his soulmate in his own damn universe.

You’re too mad to think straight right now. Only madder when you think about the possibility that it could be true, and she is his soulmate. Because would they honestly take her from her peaceful life to drag her into a world full of monsters?

Castiel writes down the ingredients and you are grateful he doesn’t question why you’re so upset right now.

Taking the piece of paper, you tell Sam: “Let’s go. We’ll make it quick.”

“I can get them on my own, just stay here. We don’t want to mes-“

You shoot him a death glare and he stops his sentence midway, only nodding. You’re oddly proud of yourself for being listened to.

“Let’s go”, you repeat and the both of you start walking into a direction you guess to be the garage.

“You know, you’re really scary if you want to be”, he tells you, somewhat impressed.

Smirking, you reply: “You got it wrong. I’m only not scary if I want to be. “


	6. Chapter 6

Reader’s POV

Taking a deep breath, you sit up way too fast. Your head is pounding and your body feels like it’s been set on fire.

“I’m getting tired of waking up like this”, you say more to yourself.

“Oh thank god you’re awake, we didn’t know if you’ll make it”, someone says besides you and it takes you a few seconds to realize it’s Sam.

Turning your head slowly, because damn, it hurts like hell, you look at him, unsure of what to answer him. In all honestly, you’re unsure what happened.

“You were clinically dead for some time”, he explains.

“Oh”, is all you can think of, “I don’t remember any of it.”

“Well, we weren’t even on the road for five minutes when Zachariah appeared in the middle of the road.”

“How the hell did we get away from something like that?”

“Castiel”, he explains, “he appeared around the same time and eventually got us back to the bunker. Well, after we got you back from Zachariah.”

You groan, wishing you had memories of any of this. Because it truly feels like it didn’t happen.

“What exactly do you mean ‘got me back’?”

“Well, before Cas could get you, he beamed himself up… with you.”

“How hard did I hit my head not to remember any of this??”

“We’re pretty sure he made you forget”, Sam explains, way too calm.

“It makes so sense”, you groan, “How the hell did he find us?? Did he just wait outside the bunker for us to show up?”

“We’re not sure about that just yet, just… try to get some rest. You should probably sleep some more.”

You ask the question on your mind: “Can’t Castiel heal me completely?”

“Most of it, but some things were above his pay rate.”

You look around the room, obviously a room in the bunker, with no windows and the bare minimum of lightning.

Sam stands up, ready to go out, when you ask one more question.

“How the hell did you get me back?”

Sam looks out of the door, before giving you a sad smile.

“Long story… Just get some sleep”, he says ominously.

You nod, knowing that there’s no way you can sleep with that many questions on your mind. He leaves without further ado.

Closing your eyes, you try to think of what happened. Try to remember anything, really.

Just when you think you might have got something, you hear muffled voices through the walls, followed by footsteps and then more talking. You’re still too out of it to listen to it, when the door suddenly opens, revealing Castiel.

Sam comes behind him, whispering something, but the angel doesn’t listen to it.

“We need to talk, (Y/N).”

You look up at Castiel, his blue eyes staring into yours. His expression is completely neutral, which throws you off for a second. It’s not like he’s showing emotions, his face just looks so… blank.

He’s an angel, of course he isn’t accustomed to the human expressions, you think. Still, looking at him directly sends chills down your spine.

Once you get over that, you realize for the first time that he has used your real name. He shouldn’t know it, you’ve never told them after all.

You open your mouth to reply, maybe telling him that that’s not your name, but you close it just as fast. There must be some reason he knows your name. So, there’s really no reason for you to tell him otherwise.

“Let me”, Sam chides in, giving you a polite smile – acting way more distant than the last few days.

He strides forward awkwardly in a slow pace, like you’d be approaching a dear that’s about to run around wildly any second now.

One he’s reached your bed, he stops for a second, looking he’s debating something internally. When he eventually sits down by your side, you realize he wondered if he should sit down or stand.

At this point you’re getting scared. This is obviously a bad new talk. For a Winchester. How bad does it have to be to be a bad new talk for a Winchester?

“Okay, so you know that the bunker is warded against all Supernatural?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but nonetheless you nod.

“Okay, the bunker is warded. Which means you basically don’t exist for anyone looking for you.”

Your eyebrows raise before you can even control it. ‘Looking for you’?

“I don’t exist in this universe, of course I don’t exist for anyone here, Sam. It’s logic”, you inform him matter-of-factly and he groans lightly, out of exhaustion.

“I know… _(Y/N)_. Just let me finish, okay?”

You nod once again.

“So once you got out of the bunker, you’re on the radar again. Especially you, because you don’t have any wardings against the supernatural. So, if theoretically som-“

“Come on Sam”, Castiel says behind him, obviously irritated, then he locks eyes with you.

“You’re Dean Winchester’s soulmate. The angels looked for you for some time now to use you against him, wanting to force him into saying yes to Michael. When you were… in ‘your universe’, they obviously couldn’t find you, neither could they in the bunker. Once you left the bunker, everyone knew who and where you are. You basically went out there screaming for evil to get you.”

You stare at him for some seconds, before you burst out laughing. Full on loud, snorting laughing. This is bullshit, you think, I’m dreaming or they’re fucking with me. By now you’re convinced you’ll wake up any second.

When you realize that both men are in awkward silence, you stop your laughing, staring at them wide-eyed.

“That was a joke, right?”

“Uh, no (Y/N)”, Sam says, pronouncing your name strangely. He turns around, whispering ‘I told you, you can’t just drop something like that on her’ angrily to the angel.

“Are you doing the psychological thing where you say my name all the time, so I feel safe and not threatened?”, you wonder aloud.

Sam looks caught, but quickly catches himself, shaking his head ‘no’.

“Well, I think you do. Besides, I also think I’ll wake up any second now. You know what? Let me rephrase that one. I _want_ to wake up now.”

“We don’t have time for any of this”, Castiel complains.

Taking a step forward, the angel speaks again: “Once you were out every angel, including Zachariah and me, knew who you were. I came as fast as I could, but I was too late. He took you, but he only had you for ten minutes and 47 seconds.”

Leave it to the angel to count the seconds.

“How the hell did you find me?”

“Whatever he did to you, you shortly died because of it. He warded the both of you – probably to keep you hostage, or get information – but when you died, that send another signal to everyone who kept an eye on you. We got you back because of it. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked. Anyway, you were clinically dead for five minutes and thirty-eight seconds, but I was able to heal you.”

“You can do that? Bring somebody back to life?”, you ask, surprised that resurrection via angel is possible.

“Kind of”, Sam replies, “Cas could heal your wounds, but not bring you back. Long story, short: he got a defibrillator. We got lucky.”

“Well, the full Winchester universe experience, right? You weren’t there if you didn’t die and came back to life.”

Sam manages to crack a smile, making some of the tension in the room disappear.

“Okay, anyway, can we get me back to my universe now? And get you Dean back?”

The men share a confused glance, before Sam asks: “You want to go? But we just told you… I know it’s hard to believe, but you’re Dean’s soulmate.”

“That’s way too cheesy, even for me”, you tell him honestly, “Besides, if there’s the whole deal with your name being tattooed on your wrist to ensure you find your ‘one’, don’t you think his soulmate is in the right universe? Oh yeah, and we have the matter of my blank wrists.”

“Believe me, we’re sure. Of course you can go home, but I think you should talk to Dean before you go. We could perform the spell twice maybe? The first time to get him here and talk to you and the second time to get you home.”

“If that’s what it takes for you to believe me, sure.”

When you think about going home, panic arises within you suddenly. You have probably missed all of your exams. Great.

“When I get back, can we choose the day I get back? Because I’ve kinda missed all my exams for college by being here – so I’d appreciate it if you could drop me off shortly after I was so rudely transported to this universe.”

Castiel just stands there, wanting to say something, when Sam cuts him off.

“Of course, we’ll make it up.”

Castiel doesn’t look you into your eyes.

“You can’t, can you?”, you direct your question at the angel, “Change the time, I mean. Oh god, I’m gonna fail. This is the worst day of my life.”

“You do know you died today, for like five minutes, right? _Failing_ makes this day the worst?”, Sam questions.

“Sam, I came _back_ from death. There’s no coming back from the failed tests. I had an almost perfect score. Now this? Oh god.”

Sam opens his mouth to reply something, when Castiel interrupts you.

“We have a problem”, he states, “I can hear Dean praying to me. He’s here again.”

“What’s the problem about him being here again?”, you ask.

“Zachariah brought him back.”

The angel waits a second, before he adds: “And he’s not alone.”


	7. Chapter 7

Soph’s POV

I knew we were fucked when Zachariah appeared out of nowhere in my universe. I tried to mentally prepare myself for what he could have prepared. For the bad, the horrible. Physical and mental torture.

What I didn’t see coming was just being locked in a room. Well, being locked in sounds like there’s a locked door. In fact, there’s no door, no window, no whatsoever. Just Dean and me in this room, staring at each other wide eyed.

“Shit”, he says, and I nod, unsure of what to say, of what to do.

It’s this moment a heartbreaking thought strikes me: Zachariah wants Dean to say ‘yes’. There’s a reason he put us in the same room. He’s probably gonna do something to me, make Dean’s inner martyr appear.

I want to open my mouth to tell Dean about it, but I close it just as fast. Partly because he has to be aware of it as well, partly because I don’t know if I want him not to say yes. It’s a horrible thought and I could never truly forgive myself if he said yes because of me, but I don’t want to get tortured, or die like this.

I’m not sure if he’ll say yes if it comes to that, but he’ll definitely be tempted to. He’s so convinced that I’m Sam’s soulmate – which is honestly crazy – and there’s nothing more important to him than his brother.

After some while the silence gets defeating and I speak the words that have been lingering on my tongue since I’ve seen his tattoo: “Have you looked for your soulmate?”

His head snaps up so fast I fear he pulled a muscle.

Dean stares at me for some time, before he rubs his hand over his face.

“For some time I did”, he answers after what seems like an eternity.

I stay silent, wanting him to tell me more. Needing to know if my theory might be true after all.

“Didn’t find her, but it’s probably for the best. You’ve watched it…”, he pauses, “I’m poison. Everyone near to me dies. I mean, look at us, I’ve barely known you for four days and you’ve granted me shelter and look where it got you.”

“Dean, this isn’t your fault”, I tell him, even though I’m kind of mad at him. Partly because I know it wasn’t him, but only _because_ of him, but furthermore because I know that (Y/N) would kick my ass if she knew I’d make him feel guilty and let him wallow in self-pity and hurt.

“Like hell it is”, he grunts out, sitting down on the ground.

While I’ve been sitting basically since we got here, he walked around the empty walls. Looking for some way out, even if he didn’t see one. I could’ve helped him, but I knew it’d be useless.

“Tell me about your soulmate”, I request, “What do you imagine her to be?”

He shakes his head slightly, almost laughing.

“It really doesn’t matter”, he tells me, and now it’s my time to laugh.

“Of course it matters, Dean. This is your life we’re talking about. You matter.”

He looks up at me, a sad glint in his eyes.

“Sophia, I really appreciate you trying to build me up, but you don’t know me. You only now the TV-show me, which is only half of the truth. Even if you honestly believe I’m a hero, in this world I’m not. I’m a screw up and everything I touch eventually turns to dust. Quite literally. So please, stop trying to make me sound like someone I’m not.”

I gulp, unsure of what to say next. I want to say something – I know that I should say something. But I can’t find the words. What are you supposed to say?

“You _are_ a hero”, I almost whisper, not sure what I should say.

He shrugs, obviously not believing me.

For about a second I try to think of something to make him believe me, when suddenly Zachariah appears in the room.

“Hello you two”, he greets us and I’m positively shocked by how inhuman in voice sounds. It’s completely neutral, as if you’ve taken all human emotions and ripped them out. It’s the same for his body posture. That’s the first time I realize what it means to be an angel in a vessel. Literally a vessel. Like a car they sit in, while they can control where to go or what to say, it’s a static element. That’s exactly what I see when I look at the angel.

“You’re not here for small talk, let’s hear it, Zachy, what do you want know?”

I realize that Dean is standing again, sassing the angel with more courage than I can bring up in this moment. To be frankly honest, it’s a lot right now.

The angel outright laughs, which takes me aback for a second. Him laughing, being happy, is not a good sign.

“Oh Dean, you could be a little bit more grateful. Since, you know, we rescued you from the other universe. And we even took Sam’s soulmate here with us.”

Oh great, here we go again with the soulmate business.

Dean must think so, because his eyes widen for a second and he looks downright shocked. I guess he’s shocked his suspicion is right, because after all there wasn’t any proof to back his theory up. He thought that I was Sam’s soulmate – which by the way still sounds ridiculous – but all he had to go on was a hunch.

“You know, I had some fun with yours, as well”, he adds with a self-satisfied smirk. It’s the first time I see any human expressions on him and it honestly scares me. It’s not a normal smirk, but completely overdone, as if he doesn’t know how to handle being in a human body. Which, thinking about it, he probably doesn’t.

“Really a tough one, you know. Dead for a few minutes, but came back. But guess that’s the fate of her now, right? Because being your soulmate is a death sentence, Dean.”

Dean pulls his sleeves back, and even from over here I can see that there’s no line over her name anymore. She’s alive. Even if she isn’t who I think she is, Dean’s soulmate is alive, which is a win.

After the relief washed through Dean, anger takes its place.

“What the _hell_ did you do to her?”, his voice is low and dangerous, his eyes beaming darkly. hell _hell_

“Not much, I barely had her ten minutes before the lights went out. I thought she’d be able to sustain more, but guess not. Just so you know, the next time she’ll stay dead.”

Dean’s gaze is downright frightening and I fear he’s starting a fight he won’t win.

“If you said yes, we’d protect her. We can’t protect Sam, since, you know, he’s Lucifer’s vessel. But we can protect your soulmate – even Sam’s. You just have to say yes.”

He doesn’t answer, but judging by his posture, I am convinced he doesn’t even think about saying yes. I don’t know how exactly that whole soulmate business works, but he doesn’t know her, why would he give up everything for someone he doesn’t know? Then again, it’s Dean Winchester. He has killed himself for the hell of it.

“You should really think about it Dean. Because next time I’ll get your soulmate, I’ll make sure it lasts longer than ten minutes. And her death will be permanent. Maybe, if you still like refusing by then, I’ll make sure her soul doesn’t get into heaven. Let her spend the rest of her life in hell, what do you think about that? I mean, you know what that means, do you really want your soulmate to go through that as well?”

Dean flinches and I know that Zachariah saw it as well. That asshole hit a nerve.

“Because she’s a righteous woman, you know? She’s innocent. Kind, caring, _loving_. Model citizen for heaven, if you will. But you right now are damning her for an eternity of torture and pain. This is y-“

Just like that he disappears in front of our eyes, together with the room. Suddenly we’re in a much bigger room – probably a library. It takes me some seconds to realize that this is the bunker. It _has_ to be. It looks like it does in the show, well a little older and not as well-kept, but basically the same.

I look back at Dean, for some reason not having any headaches, nausea or feelings of illness.

After a few seconds I look around the room, until I hear a heavy door slowly being opened. Turning my head to the direction I heard the noise from, my eyes widen when I see my best friend standing up there.

“Oh my god”, she whisper – or at least I suppose so – because that relies solely on my barely there lip reading skills.

She runs the stairs down way too fast and before I can think about it, I run towards her as well, engulfing her in a hug once we reach each other.

“I was so worried, when I couldn’t reach you“, I whisper to her, feeling relived about finally knowing where she is. Then again, she was probably here the whole time, which isn’t good. Especially because I believe even more now that she’s the one Zachariah killed – for three minutes – but still.

Slowly she takes a step back, smiling at me.

“Have you heard of all that soulmate cliché?”, she whispers.

“Stranger than being in Supernatural?”

“Point taken”, she says light-hearted, as if nothing had happened.

She opens her mouth to say something, when she locks eyes with something – or rather someone behind me. The words die in her throat and her eyes widen slightly – but her smile doesn’t fade.

When she finally opens her mouth again, probably to say something to Dean, I turn around just in time to see him walk away before she can get anything out.

 

 

Reader’s POV

_“Zachariah brought him back.”_

_The angel waits a second, before he adds: “And he’s not alone.”_

You look at him, unsure of what to say next. Because if he is with who you think he is, you are all royally screwed.

“Is there ever a time where nothing happens with you guys?”, you ask exhausted, getting angry at the thought of what’s happening.

You were mad before, but right now all you know is that you were out for not even five minutes and already attacked and killed – and now you don’t even remember it. Some angel just _thinks_ he can fuck with you like that? With your best friend and your favorite fictional character?? Sure, you don’t have actual proof it’s her he’s with, but at this point it just makes the most sense.

You look at Cas, then at Sam, before you speak: “I have an idea. I just need to go out for two minutes and I promise you we’ll have them back.”

Sam immediately answers: “Please tell me you’re not planning on sacrificing yourself. Because you’re not.”

You groan. “Sam, I don’t have a Winchester martyr complex, trust me. What I do have is a plan. Let’s just say I know someone powerful enough to bring them here. But you need to let me do this on my own.”

“Definitely not, (Y/N)”, Castiel answers, “Everyone will instantly know where you are – and who you are for that matter.”

“Ward me then, Castiel”, you tell him, and he looks taken aback, before he composes himself.

“It’s not that easy”, he begins, but you interrupt him.

“Yes, yes, it is. Just put the warding on me and I can go outside. I _promise_ you I’ll get Dean back”, you bite your tongue at adding ‘and Sophia’.

When neither of them answers, you ask: “You want Dean back, don’t you?”

 

___

_Chuck, if you don’t get down here right now, I promise you I’ll go in there and tell them exactly who you are._

You try once again, hoping that after five minutes of standing outside the bunker, quite literally praying to God, he hears you and answers your prayer. You’ve turned to blackmailing now.

When nothing happens, you go on.

_I know I might not be able to find you, but just how fast do you think Castiel can spread the word? And then your cover is blown. Everyone knows you’re still here._

It’s probably not the smartest move to threaten God, but you’re pretty pissed at how he handles the situation. You’re in this shitty universe, with all-

“It’s really not that ‘shitty’, (Y/N)”, you hear behind you. _Oh shit._

“You know, I could punish you for the way you talk to me”, he adds matter-of-factly when you turn around.

You’re not sure what you expected, a light, sparks, something – instead he’s just standing there, being Chuck. Looking human, other than Castiel, who still can’t handle his ‘meatsuit’, as demons put it.

“I don’t mean to be rude”, you tell him, not as courageous as you felt just shortly before, “I just… Okay, did you bring me here? Did you bring Dean to my universe?”

“Yes and yes”, he answers and it’s safe to say that your eyes couldn’t have possible gotten wider.

“Oh, that was easy”, you almost whisper, before you add: “Why?”

The thought corsses your mind that he made a mistake, that the whole soulmate business didn’t work out, when he talks again.

“I didn’t make a mistake”, he clarifies, and you gulp audibly, because goddamn – _no, don’t curse, especially not using his name_ – he can read your mind. “I put Sophia and you in another universe as to protect you. With the Winchester heritage and the prophecy, your sister and you would have been captured early on in life. Or sold off, used for blackmail, I’ve seen a dozen possible outcomes. So I decided to meddle – mind you, that’s something I haven’t done in a few millennia.”

“But why did you do it for _us_?”, you ask, before another question crosses your mind, “And why are you telling me all of this, and why are-“

He interrupts you with a smile on his lips.

“Slowly, (Y/N). Let’s go somewhere private.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, before both of you suddenly are in the middle of a park. No people around you, not a sound to be heard. There’s a bench, on which he sits down, and you follow his lead.

“I’m telling you because you won’t remember this conversation. But first, let me undo what Zachariah has done.”

He touches your forehead shortly, but you don’t feel any different after he’s done.

“He put a tracker on you”, Chuck explains, “Well, half tracker, half bomb. Ready for detonation. He always did have a hang for the dramatic.”

Shocked, you reply: “I really don’t know how you are so chill about that.”

“Because no harm has come to you from it, I removed it.”

He’s so matter-of-factly that for a second you can see how inhumane he is, how logical he thinks – how there are no emotions behind his actions. Only logical thinking. In that very moment, you can’t see him as a compassionate god, but as a rational manger who makes cuts when it needs to be, and who only acts if his employees can’t handle themselves.

“The Winchesters have always been some of my favorites. Their courage, how they are so selfless. The love they have for each other. You could call them one of my prized possessions.”

“It’s really fucked up to see them as possessions, you know that, don’t you?”, you interrupt him automatically, before mumbling a ‘sorry’ for your choice of words.

“But they are, you see. All of you are. I created you.”

“Okay, I really didn’t think I’d have to be the one to break it to you, but even though you created them, doesn’t make them yours. According to the bible, you were the one to give them free will. Which means you made them their own person. Not like angels – you made them follow your every order, basically created soldiers, ready for your disposal.”

You’re shocked that he doesn’t interrupt you, or smite you right then and there, but you continue nonetheless: “If you made them their own beings, why call them your own now? You can’t have it both ways. You’re like a parent. Which makes sense, since you see yourself as ‘the father’ – or you at least let the apostles tell it like that. And children are not their parents’ possessions.”

You take a deep breath, ready to face his anger, when he simply gives you a sad smile.

“I always did like you, (Y/N). I appreciate your honesty and I’ll think about it, but I’m sure that this is not why you asked me here, is it?”

“No”, you tell him, more confident this time, because you just gave God a piece of mind. You’ll get through this. “But firstly, is it Sophia with him?”

“Yes, it is.”

Your mind rattles with questions and it takes some time before you have your thoughts in order.

“Before, you said that you _put_ us in another universe. What exactly did you mean by that?”

“Well, you were supposed to be born here. Would you like to know more about this? Time is running, you know”, he informs you.

“I _need_ to know”, you tell him, before you add: “As long as they don’t get hurt right now, please tell me.”

“Alright then. The both of you were supposed to be born into this universe. Into a hunters family, to be exact. You would’ve been sisters, three years difference. You’d have seen how to have a normal life while also hunt. Your parents would both have been hunters, well, your father still is in this universe, but they would’ve lived a normal life to the outside. You’d have practically grown up with the Winchester brothers. Family connection, and all. There are different outcomes, but the original one was that you were left untouched by the angels to bond with the brothers. When teenage years arrived, you had each other’s names. The angels waited patiently until after Lucifer was set free, then they took the both of you. They killed your sister instantly, because they knew demons would’ve used her against Sam. Then they kept you, urging Dean on to say yes. He didn’t.”

“Well, why did you meddle at all?”, you ask him, shocked by what he just told you, “I mean, besides both Soph and me dying, it’s pretty much the same.”

“(Y/N), do you know why I invented soulmates?”

You shake your head.

“It’s because I wanted people to be happy. To find the one I created for them. After centuries of seeing people struggle, unsure of who to turn to, I decided to make it easy for them. I ever meant to make the soulmate tattoo into a target. Besides, as I said, I’ve always liked all four of you. You would’ve liked that version of you – a badass, as you’d put it.”

You bite your tongue at telling him that you’re a badass as well, because the truth is the original you – _how strange does that sound?? Like I’m a cheap copy_ – would’ve been a hunter. That’s pretty badass.

“That you never existed, you know”, he goes on, “She’s not the ‘original you’. It would’ve been you. But I meddled. I believe in you, in all four of you. And I granted your sister and you the knowledge of what’s to come. Handle it carefully. Don’t make me regret saving you.”

When he mentions saving, you open your mouth, but he is faster.

“I know why you called me, (Y/N)” He snaps his fingers. “They’re in the bunker now.”

He gives you a sad smile: “So this is it then, I guess.”

“Wait, one more thing: do I know out would-have-been-parents? And do you mean that our would-have-been-mother is dead when you said that our would-have-been-father is the only one still hunting, or is our would-have-been-mother just not a hunter? Or have they never met?”

Chuck shakes his head, laughing slightly: “You sure have many questions.”

“Well?”, is all you can get out, nervous at the thought of knowing who would have been your parents. Even more nervous when you wonder why you don’t question his story. But then again, this is God you’re talking to. And by this point, it’s impossible to deny that this universe is real.

“You’ll know it once you meet them, promise.”

“One more thing”, he adds then, “When I’m gone, neither you or your sister will remember me being God. I really want to keep that for myself for some time.”

You open your mouth, but once again he’s faster: “I’ve undone the damage done to them as well, yes. And yes, you will have a reason as to why they’re home. Trust me, (Y/N).”

With those words he’s gone, together with the park you were in.

Staring at the bunker door, you are unbelievably grateful for the angel who heard your prayers and took mercy on you. You’re not sure how long it would’ve taken otherwise.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, hoping that both of them are in there unharmed. Furthermore praying that all will be alright. Because this world is scary and both you and your best friend have been dropped into it without a guiding light.

Slowly opening the bunker’s door, you could swear you heard an echo in your head.

_“Trust me, (Y/N).”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand we can finally begin, it's time for everyone to meet their soulmate, don't you think?  
> also: in the next chapter you'll get Dean's POV :)


	8. Chapter 8

Reader’s POV

When you hugged Sophia, you felt peace. Knowing that a piece of home, a piece of the life you know is here gives you comfort you couldn’t have imagined.

After you both agree on how strange it is to be in Supernatural, your eyes fall on someone behind her. Dean Winchester. As in _the_ Dean Winchester. As in your long-time-fictional-character-crush. As in, _oh god, shoot me, I’m staring at him._

Slowly you open your mouth, wanting to say something clever – something sassy maybe even. But the words get stuck in your throat when he turns on his heels and walks away without further ado.

_Oh._

You look at your best friend, willing your eyes not to travel back to the door he just left through. You didn’t expect him to like you, you thought he’d make a dumb joke or that you’d say something awkward. Instead, he just walked away, not even looking at you for more than three seconds. Lovely.

It stings. Not because you believe in all this it’s-your-soulmate-why?-because-a-tattoo-says-it-that’s-why-crap. But because he is your favorite character.

And yeah, maybe because you thought that the soulmate-crap would at least make him talk to you.

Getting your thoughts in order, you tell your best friend: “Oh god, I have so much to tell you. Apparently, you’re Sam’s soulmate. He has your name tattooed on his wrist. It’s so strange, because when I first saw it, I was really taken aback an-“

“(Y/N), deep breaths”, she reminds you with a smile, “And yeah, I know. Dean has yours. Besides that dickhead Zachariah also mentioned you were his soulmate. Well, he didn’t say your name per say, but I guess you were the one he kidnapped and killed for three minutes?”

She raises one eyebrow, still not believing the words she’s saying. Neither do you.

“Well, I am a Winchester now”, you tell her with a smile, “Died and came back to life.”

When she doesn’t say anything, you explain: “I don’t remember any of it. As far as Sam told me, I died and that’s when Castiel knew where I was. Apparently the angels put a tracker on me. Sam didn’t let me leave the bunker for three days – he was scared of me changing this universe, mind you – and then I am out for like five minutes and that’s all I can remember. Got kidnapped, killed and then saved by Cas and Sam. They had to bring medical equipment to bring me back. But I’m all good now, Castiel even warded me.”

Thinking about it, you add: “He should ward you, too. I really don’t know how long we have to stay in this universe. Better safe than sorry.”

“That’s… a lot”, Soph admits.

“Tell me about it. But honestly though, we have so much catching up to do. How were your days-“

You’re interrupted when Sam enters the room, awkwardly coming to an halt when he sees the both of you.

“Uh, hi”, he says, fumbling shortly with his hands, as his gaze rests on your best friend.

“Hey Sam”, Soph says, being her bubbly self. Her voice is pitched just a little bit higher and at closer evaluation, you realize she’s straightened her posture.

You can’t help but smile, touching your best friend’s shoulder lightly. When she looks at you again, you mouth ‘should I stay or should I go?’. Because as much as you want to give them their space, you’re not sure Soph wants to be alone with him just yet.

She gives you a smile, nodding her head ever so slightly. It’s all you need to know to get out of the room.

“Don’t forget to use protection”, you shout once you’re out the door. You don’t need to be in the room to know they both must be blushing furiously.

You hear a faint ‘(Y/N)!’, but you just giggle, knowing that they can now bond over how awkward you made the situation for both of them.

Walking down the corridor, you think about how maybe the soulmate rhing isn’t that bizarre. God knows, you don’t believe in it completely, but honestly? The way Sam and Sophia looked at each other just now, that was kinda heartwarming. It’s no surprise that your blonde best friend would react like that, because she’s had a crush on the younger Winchester since forever. But him? In the four days you’ve known him, he’s been very put together.

Even if the soulmate business is a scam, you hope they’ll get along.

After some time you faintly hear voices talking, realizing it must be Dean and Cas. Following the direction they come from, you wonder if you should let them have their privacy. But then again, they’re probably talking about you. You have a right to know what they’re saying, you think.

“-get those, we’ll send them back.”

“Dean, I really think you should talk about that first. Don’t you think your decision is a bit rash?”

“No, it’s definitely not. She was safe and sound and now there’s a target on her back. She isn’t even here for a week and has already been kidnapped and killed.”

“We got her back”, Cas informs him, but Dean just laughs – a deep, humorless laugh that lets shivers run down your spine.

“She was _dead_ , Cas. Not because she did anything, not because someone was just feeling like it. But because they wanted to get to me. I don’t even know her and she’s already getting hurt because of me. So yeah. Let’s get her the fuck back to her universe.”

There’s a short pause before the angel talks again: “Wait some time. Let her stay here, decide together. You have time to teach her how to protect herself.”

You honestly can’t stand them talking about you. Like you’re a little girl that needs to be saved. Well, they just had to save you – but that’s not the point. You’re not weak and if you had known that supernatural beings were looking for you, you would have acted differently. You’re not dumb and you’re not weak. They should stop talking about you, and start talking _with_ you, you think angrily.

“No, not even an option”, Dean all but growls, “I don’t know her yet, we don’t have any kind of connection. I can send her back right now without missing her.”

_Why don’t you give it to me straight, damn, boy._

“Just so you know, ‘she’ really doesn’t like people making decisions _for_ her”, you announce when you open the door and step inside.

Both men stare at you, neither knowing what to say.

Directing your gaze at Dean, you watch his face carefully, cocking your head to the side in a confident manner. More confident that you are feeling, but at least he won’t know that. Fake your body confidence till you make it, right?

“What about asking _me_ what I want, Dean?” You cross your arms. “Well, but that’s kinda hard to do when you walk away from me after two seconds, isn’t it?”

You know you’re being harsh on him, but he deserves it. You’ve known him for two minutes and he’s already deciding what you should and shouldn’t do.

Instead of looking ashamed, he just laughs lightly and you have to concentrate on staying calm.

“Well alright then, sweetheart, what exactly do you want?”

You thought about being called sweetheart, if you’re being honest. In a loving sense, in a teasing sense. Never in a condescending manner though.

“I want to go home”, you tell him.

This time he laughs louder, but still in a humorless way.

“Where was your problem then, hm? I want to get you home, you want to go home. No need to make a scene, sweetheart.”

The use of the word ‘sweetheart’ is upsetting to say the least. He says it to make you feel weak. Like you don’t know what you’re talking about, like you’re being childish.

“The problem is not what you want, it’s that you don’t care what I want. You make a decision about me before consulting with me first. Don’t you think I get a say in my future?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but you are faster: “Dean, don’t say that this is you being selfless. Or you doing the right thing. Just because it’s the hard choice, doesn’t make it the right one.”

Dean looks at you, and for the first time you feel like he’s actually looking at you. Not in awe, not in a specific manner. He’s just looking _at_ you, instead of _through_ you.

“But it is the right choice in this situation, isn’t it?”, he answers smugly.

“No”, you reply calmly, “This is me being selfish. Because honestly? I want to have my own life back. I have been here for less than a week and I’m tired of it. I’m here because supposedly I’m your ‘soulmate’ – which still sounds unbelievably sappy, let me tell you this – but you obviously don’t want anything to do with me. And I refuse to stay here, trying to get your approval. I won’t put myself second, just because everyone else seems to do it. So I’m choosing myself, I’m being selfish.”

He doesn’t answer – neither does Castiel, but at this point you almost forget he is in the room with you – so you add: “It wouldn’t hurt you to do the same once in a while. Be selfish. Do what makes you happy.”

Dean’s eyes soften for a second, before he shakes his head slightly, answering: “ _Sweetheart_ , you have no idea what you’re talking about. Being selfish and being happy don’t always go together. And not everyone is as free as to be selfish.”

“I’m not gonna discuss being happy with you, Dean”, you tell him honestly, “Because you’re so convinced you don’t deserve to be happy, that you will never let yourself have it. It doesn’t make you a bad person to put yourself first. You don’t always have to be someone. You don’t have to be the Righteous Man-Dean, Big Brother-Dean, Good Soldier-Dean. It’s enough to be Dean Winchester. No further references added.”

He gives you a half-hearted smile, before rolling his eyes.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, (Y/N).”

Him calling you by your first name makes a smile appear on your face. Because you know at this point he’s taking you seriously. No ‘sweetheart’. But you, a person whose opinion matters.

“Yes, I think I do. But it really doesn’t matter what I think, does it? Seeing as I’m gonna be gone soon.”

At the mention of you going to your universe, he turns to where Cas was standing, only to realize – at the same time you do – that your feathery friend is gone. Probably got tired of your discussion.

“Let me see it”, you tell him after a while.

His whole body straightens, and he waits shortly, before he pulls his right sleeve back, revealing black ink on his wrist.

___  


Dean Winchester imagined meeting his soulmate often enough when he was younger. When he was introduced to the concept of soulmates, he was thrilled by it. Seeing his mother and father loving each other, how they praised their tattoos… he was excited about seeing someone with his name. He thought about different names – he even thought if Lara from kindergarten could be his soulmate, because he really liked her.

All in all, he liked the idea that there was someone out there for him. Knowing that there was someone waiting for him. Even when his parents fought, they made it work. He watched his parents’ posture change when they touched each other’s tattoos.

He was four years old when the whole concept shattered right in front of him. After his mother’s death, a thin black line appeared over her name on his dad’s wrist. John Winchester turned to alcohol, he fell victim to his rage and began hunting the supernatural.

Dean got to see what losing your soulmate does to you. Not just see it but feel the pain that his father didn’t know how to handle. The mental abuse his father put him through made him a good soldier. He was eight years old when he decided he’d rather not have a name appear on his skin. It wasn’t worth it, he decided right then and there.

And for the longest time, there wasn’t a name. Even though he wished for it at a time, when he turned thirteen and didn’t have a tattoo, his heart sank just the slightest. He thought about what it meant for him. The thought crossed his mind that he just wasn’t worth of the love a soulmate could provide.

A few months later a tattoo did appear, but it was slightly faded. Not the black ink you’d normally see, but a faded grey. So light he thought he was just imagining things.

Even if he would have never admitted it, knowing that there was someone out there – someone waiting for him – made hope ignite in his heart. It made him want to find her.

Everytime he went to a new school – everytime he heard a girl introduce herself with a nickname starting with ‘(Y/F/L)’, he internally prepared himself.

That lasted for about two years, before he got tired of waiting around. When he was fifteen, he used the motel’s old computer to find someone by that name. He didn’t.

It was easy for him to lose himself in hunting, being distracted from finding his soulmate. But the longer he saw evil and death, the longer he didn’t find her, the more his belief in soulmates faded. Who thought to put a name on his wrist, when he can’t find her? He decided to live like there wasn’t a name on his wrist, because maybe, after all, that really would have been better. He wouldn’t peak up whenever someone introduced themselves as ‘(Y/N)’. He would be peaceful, doing what his father told him to do. To move to a next city without the fear of missing his soulmate because of it.

Of course he never voiced these thoughts aloud. Why should he? His father never talked about the tattoo on his arm, or what it meant, or how Dean could find her. He acted as if there was no tattoo on his arm. So after time, that is what Dean did as well.

And it worked just fine.

Until it didn’t.

At 31 years, he didn’t think about the faded name on his wrist anymore. He didn’t even look for the name anymore. In fact, when someone introduced themselves with that name, he turned around and took the next exit. People near him died – that’s how it has always been. He didn’t need to damn another soul.

When he got transported to that strange universe, he didn’t realize at first that his tattoo wasn’t faded out anymore. He has been ignoring it for so long that he almost forgot it was there in the first place. Only when he felt an aching pain throughout his whole body did he look at it.

Seeing a thin black line over her name made his heart ache in a way he didn’t know was possible. He shouldn’t care, he knows as much. Because she was never his, he never knew her – how can he grieve someone he doesn’t even know? But the pain was overwhelming, as if he had been physically hurt.

When Zachariah took them, Dean was feeling tired. Knowing his soulmate died before he even met her took a toll on him. The bastard of an angel started talking about killing her and he felt the guilt clear as day. But then he also talked about her only being dead for a few minutes. Where there was pain when she died, he didn’t feel anything when she came back to life. But it was true, the line was gone and the name stood out strongly against his skin. It was no longer a faded grey, but a strong black. He knew then and there that he never wanted to feel that kind of pain again. Never again, not if he can help it. Keep her safe, wherever she is. But more importantly, don’t get close. Because if that’s what it feels when she dies when he _doesn’t_ know her, then he can’t imagine what it feels to lose her when he actually loves her.

Next thing he knows, he’s back in the bunker. His relief lasts for about two seconds, before the bunker door opens.

He doesn’t need to know her name to know who she is.

Of course he doesn’t love her instantly, that’d be absurd.

Seeing her is like coming home after a long time. It’s a subtle ‘hey you, I know you’. It’s feeling calm.

There aren’t many emotions pulsing through him – other than he expected, after what he’s heard, he was kind of expecting to feel sparks instantly.

But that’s not it. It’s feeling warm and content. Like things are okay. The knowledge that it’s okay.

He can’t help but smile slightly, until she looks directly at him. Her (Y/E/C) eyes are taking him in and he knows instantly she feels it too. There’s a calm smile on her face.

And that’s why he turns around and leaves her be. Because that’s exactly what he didn’t need. He doesn’t need someone that makes him feel things. Better to keep your distance, he tells himself as he walks down the corridor.

He’s not even surprised when she catches Cas and Dean talking about her. But he’s surprised about how she stands her ground. He can’t agree with her on being selfish, because he thinks it’s irresponsible to put oneself first. There are so many lives at stake, why should he put _himself_ first? _How?_

Then she talks about how he should be selfish and he can’t help but laugh, because she has _no_ idea.

But with the way she looks at him, he wonders, just for a second, if she _does_ know.

When she talks about him never _only_ being Dean Winchester, he _knows_ she _knows_.

“Let me see it”, she demands after some time and he can’t help but straighten my posture and be frozen in place. Because he doesn’t want her to see it. He doesn’t want her anywhere near him, but at the same time is body is shouting at him to let her touch his wrist.

So he pulls his sleeve back, unsure of what he actually wants her to do.

She touches his wrist lightly, her fingers barely gracing his skin. But he feels it clear as day.

“That’s my name”, she whispers in disbelief and he has to hold back his laughter. It’s so ridiculous for her to say that, but it makes sense.

In that very moment he wants nothing more but to see his name on her skin. Deep inside, he knows that just as her friend, she won’t have a tattoo. Even deeper inside he thinks that that’s what he deserves.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It broke my heart writing Dean's POV, let me tell you this. Especially the last sentence.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beyond sorry it took me so long to write another chapter. Honestly, after the last chapter I had a lot of stuff to deal with and then, when I wanted to write again, I couldn't. I honestly can't tell you how many times I've started writing this chapter and didn't make it past the second sentence.   
> Anyways, I started writing on it again today and when I felt myself hit a wall, I called my best friend and you better all thank her, because I have more than enough inspiration now to continue.   
> I realized that the plot I had planend in September just wasn't doing it for me anymore and I had to take a step back and plan something new. But boy, do I have a plot for you know. Honestly, you're in for a ride.  
> Thanks for the kudos and the lovely comments, I honestly was too disappointed in myself for not being able to continue this, to really go through it and hear praise. Sorry about that. Anyways, thank you for sticking with me!  
> Not beta'd & english is still not my first language, so bare with me.   
> Enjoy

Reader’s POV

“That’s my name”, you whisper in disbelief, letting your fingers linger on the black ink. Feeling his skin under your fingertips makes you, quite honestly, want to cry. It’s so much at once, an onslaught of emotions. Too much at once.

You can feel the warmth of his body, his heartbeat picking up and above all you feel safe, content. Looking up in his eyes, you find nothing but reassurance there. Which makes you press your fingers on his wrist instead of just lightly touching it. He doesn’t even flinch, just continues to stare at you, as you do the same.

He cracks a smile, but it’s obviously fake. It doesn’t reach his eyes. When you reach out to cup his face with your other hand, he leans into the touch, his eyes softening. At this point your actions are pretty much automatic, without overthinking it. It’s what feels right.

For a moment everything around you ceases to exist.

“So you spent some time in my universe, huh?”, you ask after a while, when the silence gets too much.

It’s not that it’s awkward, not at all. It’s too intense. You need to talk about something, to have a conversation that distracts you from the unspoken bond you’re forming.

It takes him longer to answer than you thought. In fact, for a second you think he hasn’t heard you and prepare yourself to repeat the question.

But when he does finally open his mouth to answer you, a soft smile playing on his feature, he closes it just as fast, the smile gone in an instant.

“I’m- sorry, I can’t. I can’t do this.”

“Oh”, is all you manage to say. Because really, what are you supposed to say? What are you _allowed_ to say? You will not beg him to give whatever this is a chance.

“I just”, he starts, locking his eyes with yours once again, searching in them for the right thing to say.

“This is crazy”, he mutters so quietly you almost miss it, looking away for just a second.

“You know somewhat the life”, he begins, sounding rougher this time, “This is nothing I would ever drag someone into again. And you don’t have to – hell, you _shouldn’t_ stay. Because this is nothing you want to be a part of.”

There, he said it.

“I know”, you reply calmly, unsure of what you could possibly tell him to make this better. Because you _don’t_ want to stay. Watching supernatural from a far distance sounds way more appealing than living it. But you don’t want to leave Dean here either. You can, it would hurt for sure, but you could walk away right now. And he’s giving out that out right now. Leave and never look back, no hard feelings.

Because you know that if you stay now, it’ll be pretty much impossible to leave.

“Do you want me to leave?”, you whisper after a while.

“It’s really not about what I want, is it?”

He smiles half-heartedly, wanting to sound like he’s joking. But it’s not hard to read in between the lines.

“I wouldn’t be asking if it didn’t matter.”

“You have to understand that this a life I wouldn’t wish on anyone. This is what people run from. What _you_ should be running from.”

You nod, preparing yourself to explain just why it’s getting harder by the second to leave, when suddenly the door to the room you’re in is opened.

Both Dean and you immediately take a few steps back, as if you were caught doing something wrong.

Looking back, you see Sam standing awkwardly in the door frame, an apologetic expression on his face.

“Chuck texted. ‘Life or death situation.’ With an address, we should probably get going”, he explains.

Letting your eyes wander back to Dean, you realize that his guard is back up. You can’t explain just how you could tell so quickly. The tension shifted, and just like that everything feels less intense.

_Maybe when we touched there was some kind of a connection?_ , you wonder, but get rid of that thought just as quickly as it came.

_No, that’s too cliché even for me._

Shifting your attention towards the men standing in the room again, you witness them having a silent conversation. It’s not hard to guess what it must be about.

They have to go out for a hunt. Sophia and you are here. _Should they take you with them or leave you here._ You don’t know what you prefer. Sure, going with them sounds fun – but a hunt? Actual monsters, death… You don’t know if you can stomach that.

But staying behind at the bunker, unsure of when, or even if, they come back? That sounds almost worse. There are so many questions left, wandering through your mind. Unspoken words that need confirmation.

“We could come along and then just stay at whatever motel we’re at”, Sophia suggests, appearing behind Sam.

The two of you share a silent conversation as well, checking if you’re both okay. Neither one is.

“Yeah, because leaving the bunker ended so well for (y/n).” Dean rolls his eyes, clearly not wanting either one to come along.

“I mean, we’re both protected now, aren’t we? Has Cas put the sigils on you yet?”, you ask your best friend, who in return nods, “See? We may be of help.”

“Dean, you know that it’s possible to break into the bunker, even if it’s almost impossible”, Sophia chimes in, “In the end, no matter where we are something could always happen. But if we stay here and something happens, we’re on our own.”

Dean sighs, unhappy about the prospect of having you on the road.

“No”, he finally says, “The bunker is the safest place I know. Once we dealt with this situation, we’ll deal with bringing the both of you back.”

He glances at you for a second, before leaves the room, leaving the rest of you in an awkward silence.

Sam is the first to break it: “You’re both safe here. It’s probably for the best.”

Neither Soph nor you reply, both itching to tell the other one what went down and how you can possibly handle this situation. It takes a few more seconds of silence, before Sam’s eyes widen and he says ‘see you’ quickly before leaving as well.

“We should leave”, you tell Sophia once he’s gone, “I have no idea what’s going on, but just now when I touched Dean I felt… I don’t even know how to describe it. But I don’t think that I’ll be able to leave if I spend more time with him.”

“I know what you mean, I felt it too”, she confesses, “I think there’s actual some truth to that soulmate story.”

Silence settles over you once again.

“I don’t think I want to leave.”

Your voice is barely loud enough to be classified as a whisper, but Sophia hears you nonetheless.

“I mean, I want to leave this universe, but I don’t want to leave this place.”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to say what she already knows. _You don’t want to leave him._

It’s crazy. You don’t love him, hell, you barely know him. Sure, you know the Dean Winchester from the show Supernatural, but you don’t know the real him.

And sure, it helps that he’s very easy on the eyes. But what really does it for you, is that feeling of home when you touched him. It’s impossible to explain.

Just when you got a taste of it did you realize that you were searching for it your whole life. Like you are exactly where you belong. Like you spent your entire life in your own four walls, not aware that there is a world out there. Unhappy where you are, unaware of the possibilities out there. And then, suddenly, the door opens and you realize that there’s more. Not once having known that this exists, but once you do, you can’t ever unsee it.

Sophia smiles at you, not needing to speak the words for you to hear them. She doesn’t want to leave either.

“We’re insane”, you mumble, laughing lightly.

“At least I’ve got you back”, she replies smiling.

“Talking about it, what did you do with Dean in our universe?”

She simply stares at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, did you show him any of the Supernatural episodes? How much does he know?”

You could swear that her shoulders dropped and she looked… relieved?

Then again, with the day you’re having, by now you’re over analyzing things.

“Yeah, I showed him everything. I thought he deserves to know.”

“He does”, you agree.

“You should go to him, you know.”

“Hm?”

Sophia puts her hand on your shoulder. “Convince him to take us along.”

“He has a point though, we’re not trained in this kind of thing. We’ll only be making it harder on them. Also, you would have to convince Sam as well.”

“I know, but I really want to come along.”

“Do you really, though?”, you ask, “I mean, I like the concept of coming along as well. As for everything else? I don’t know. Remember some weeks ago when I almost threw up all over your bed because I had a nightmare in which I saw a corpse in the water?”

“But you didn’t”, Sophia adds with a smile.

“I know, but think about it, this is real life. Or as real as it gets, I guess. I don’t know if I can handle the reality of hunting.”

“But we can always stay behind, just research.”

“Doesn’t make it any less real”, you counter.

When she doesn’t say anything, you add: “I’ll talk to him. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a shot.”

“I’ll talk to Sam.”

For the first time in a while, you smile whole heartedly, grateful to have your best friend with you here. You’ve known each other for so long, been best friends for 20 years now, by this point you’re more sisters than best friends.

“I love you”, you tell her.

“Who doesn’t”, she replies laughing, “I love you, too.”

With quick steps you leave the room, going towards room number 11. You can remember it so clearly because 11 is in fact your lucky number – so when Sam told you to pick a room for the time being, you wanted room number eleven. Yeah, that’s how you learned which room belongs to Dean.

Standing before the closed door, you wonder if you should knock. It’d be polite. You don’t want to be rude. Then again, knocking seems so… weird. Grabbing the door handle but still not moving it, these thoughts are still running through your head, when suddenly the door is opened from the inside.

“Guess you have a tendency for overthinking things, huh?”, Dean says, a boyish grin on his face.

When you just stare at him confused, he explains: “I could feel you standing there. After a while I figured you weren’t gonna come in yourself.”

You blush instantly, unsure of how to sweettalk this.

“I’m not looking for a fight”, you say after a while, “Just want to talk.”

“Didn’t think you were.”

“So… can I come in?”

“Sure…”, he trails off, taking a step back.

Walking inside, you realize that the room is different from what you remember. Being stuck here for over a week, of course you wandered through the halls, taking a look at the rooms. Dean’s room was just that, a room. But now, with him being in here, you can see him written all over it. As if the room is living off Dean, being a part of him. You know that’s nonsense. It’s probably just the fact that his presence lightens up the room. Still, you’re mesmerized.

Letting your eyes wander over the barely decorated room, you eventually turn towards Dean.

The words leave your tongue before you even know what you’re saying: “I’m sorry, Dean.”

He looks taken aback by that.

You are, too.

“For what?”

You sit down on the edge of his bed, not sure where else to sit down. And you don’t feel like standing when saying this. He takes the hint, sitting down next to you. He’s less frightening when he doesn’t tower over you with his full height.

“I’m sorry for being your soulmate, I guess”, you trail off, unsure of how to form your thoughts into words.

He opens his mouth, a confused, and somewhat pissed off expression coating his features.

“Wait, let me finish”, you tell him, “I just… pretty much from the second we’ve met I’m causing you more trouble. I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to be. Also, I’m fairly sure you wanted someone who knows the life. I don’t. And I’m not sure I want to. And I’m just very sorry to have brought you into this situation.”

Dean continues to look at you, not speaking for a while. When he does speak again, you wonder, just briefly, if he keeps his room so simple because he’s still prepared to have to leave.

“You have nothing to apologize for, (y/n)”, he tells you softly, “You’ve been ripped out of your safe life, from your family and friends, brought to this universe and damned to this life. I’ve never had… I didn’t lose everything like you did. I’m used to it. So really, it should be me apologizing.”

You smile a little.

“We’re not going to play this ‘no, I’m sorry’ – game for the next hour now, are we? Let’s just leave it at that. We’re both sorry.”

He reciprocates your smile.

“Sure thing, princess.”

“I just… I really don’t want to stay behind. I can’t be here any longer, by this point it feels more like a prison. I mean, Castiel warded me. We can get an anti-possession tattoo on me before we leave. I won’t be in on any action, just stay behind researching. But if I have to stay longer here, I will go bonkers. Pun intended.”

He laughs slightly at that.

“Okay.”

“Wait what.”

Eyeing him carefully, you try to figure out if he’s joking. There’s no way he just says yes like that. He didn’t want you with him just a few minutes ago. He was pretty heart set on that one, too.

“I mean, thank you… Just, why?”

“I get it. Honestly. Besides, Chuck said it was life or death, so Sam’s already preparing the car. We’re heading out in five and I do not have the time, nor the energy, to fight with you on that. Also, Chuck is a prophet, so maybe he knows how to get you back.”

Your smile falters at the last part and you feel your heart drop.

You know you should go home. It’s just hard to leave.

Your gaze drops to his wrist once again, your name still prominent on there. There’s an itching to touch it again. But you don’t.

“Thank you, Dean.”

His eyes bore into yours, until his focus shifts to your lips. Automatically, you begin to lean forward. Just when you think that he _is_ going to kiss you, he hastily stands up.

“Let’s get going, then, huh”, he says absentmindedly, running his hand through his hair.

You simply nod, too embarrassed to form any words.

Following him towards the garage, you can’t help but think about why he got up. Rationally you know that he doesn’t want to get any closer to you than he already is because of this bond thing. Rationally you’re completely aware that he is trying to keep his distance, because getting attached will end badly.

But you can’t completely shake the thought of that maybe, he’s disappointed he got you. Not look-wise, you’re perfectly fine with how you look. But with you as a person. You don’t know anything about his life, you’ve watched him on tv, you don’t have his name, you’re causing him more trouble than you’re worth…

Maybe, just maybe, you think, he doesn’t distance himself because he wants to protect you.

Maybe he distances himself, so he _doesn’t_ have to protect you.


End file.
